Tag Archives: checklists

Everything Will Never Be Okay

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“Everything in your life is explained away as part of a process that holds you back.”  —Fiction Plane

We are on a constant journey of perpetual incompleteness.

Regardless of the minutiae inspections and indefatigable detailed plotting and planning, there are endless sidewalk cracks sitting, waiting for us to drop morsels from our meticulous arrangements, letting the overloaded armfuls of structured checklists and neatly arranged ducks fall to the ground in pure, unbridled scattered chaos.

Just when it looks like the track is straight and navigable, an unexpected train comes rumbling from the fog.

Dive for the dirt or accept your fate?

Some of this is inherent programming, and genetic wiring that savors the sweet, sweet taste of tidy order doesn’t do well with romper room pandemonium or slipshod assembly. But there are always compromises that must be made to account for the unexpected variables and curveball ruses that kick us back on our heels.

Everything will never be okay…and it’s a tart lesson that needs to be tasted.

It feels like being draped in itchy wet wool or sliding sandy bare feet into bowling shoes. But accepting the unpleasant reality that no amount of painstakingly rigorous preplanning will ever be a wide enough tarp to cover all the bases is a skill we would be wise to acquire.

As I set up and arrange every item on this desk into perfect equidistant right angles while alphabetizing my digital photo albums and categorizing my Notes app in order of pressing priority, I may be the last in a long line to offer advice on this topic. However, this is not a forum to preach, but a springboard to start conversations about shared idiosyncratic musings and our mutual head-shaking confusion about the reasons we walk around this planet, completely unaware of how or why we’re here.

Maybe the occasional rejection of order is just as important as its worship.

But that’s a sticky band-aid to pull…and it’s never easy exposing an open wound.

Adolescence Interrupted

Regimens, Rituals, Routines, and Repetitions

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There is an inherent beauty in the spotless design of unbroken uniformity. A placid pond without ripples. Endless assembly line loops. Dominoes sitting stacked like obedient soldiers, primed for the fall. We marvel at the meticulousness and take comfort in the reassuring sense that we can anticipate what’s approaching, whether secretly emerging from the shadows or blatantly barreling around blind corners.

Many of the highest output producers have established deliberate methodologies to maximize efficiency and minimize waste. Even in artistic pursuits, there is normally a series of steps taken before the comfort of creativity has a chance to blossom.

History’s most revered thinkers, philosophers, and intellectuals instituted various structured systems and behaviors that allowed them the unencumbered freedom to simply ponder. When we are buried beneath the oxygen-depriving load of checklists, appointments, strain, stress, responsibilities, and distractions, our mental hard drives are too busy spinning plates to thoroughly question, dissect, or explore.

Time management and prioritization are elusive little devils that keep their pitchforks purposely pointed in my direction with far more regularity than I’d like to publicly accept. Staying lost in thoughts that do nothing but add to the tally of uncontrollable variables—drowning in a sea of projection and conjecture—exemplifies the dizzying, dehydrating hamster wheel sprinting that stands in direct opposition to productivity or a legitimate sense of accomplishment.

Find a habit, build a plan, schedule a working window, wait until inspiration strikes, and then let your mind wander free. That seemingly baffling juxtaposition is exactly the recipe required for baking the bread of ideas.

But don’t let the wander turn into maze-making. Hunt for exits and solutions, not walls and hidden cheese.

Adolescence Interrupted

Twelve Years

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12years212 years. 144 months. 624 weeks. 4,380 days.

105,120 hours. 6,307,200 minutes.

These are much more than numbers. With each rotation around the sun, I’m reminded of my station. Every year is a bookmark in a story I never want to finish. These tallies are visual representations of the time spent away from risk, pain, and peril. They are universal stamps of approval, affirming that I made the right decision to carry on with this crazy experiment called life.

It would have been easy to wave that white flag during the downpour. When every ounce of optimism was depleted, when every cell screamed at me to stop, and when the self-inflicted psychological torture far exceeded any physical pain, I could have stepped off the train. I didn’t have to subject my body and brain to an uncertain future on a path laden with land mines.

The impetus to fight instinct came from those hidden recesses we haven’t quite been able to classify. It’s grit and gumption mixed with tireless tenacity, and the sum total of those efforts is twelve years of health, hope, and possibility.

Perspective is a funny thing. A life-or-death seesaw frames the simplest joys as monumental, celebratory occasions. Laughable moments of triumph—like walking unassisted in a hallway or finishing a full meal—demand a chorus of applause. Existence reverts to its most basic form. There is an appreciation for every waking second without pain.

The further we travel from that precarious road, the more comfortable we become taking everything for granted. Health becomes something expected, and pain takes its residence in layers of memory. Stress is assigned to daily worry, future projections, or mundane tasks on infinite checklists. The brain is designed to recover from previous trauma, so it feels easy to forget what is truly important…until we are reminded again.

I rode that boomerang for a long time. As difficult as things have been in this carnivorous city, and as much as my time is occupied by the weight of wonder, there is no comparison to the very real and immediate threat of losing everything.

So I am grateful for all twelve of those planetary revolutions, and I will continue my search for greater peace of mind inside that perspective.

Adolescence Interrupted